Draco was sat next to Harry in the Great Hall.
It was early on a Saturday, and due to the lack of Quidditch practice, the hall was pretty empty. For this reason, Harry had decided to sit with Draco at the Slytherin table when he came in. He was currently blabbing on about his latest development in Herbology Club with Neville. Draco was only half listening, more focused on the way Harry was buttering his toast.
Harry wasn't really paying attention to what he was doing, and was sort of just smearing the butter back and forth with no real intention behind his actions. He kept slipping up and sliding his hand across the toast, leading him to lick it off his fingers like a dog. Draco was completely mesmerised, and it was frankly insulting that anyone should be expected to focus on anything else whilst Mr Talking-Wet-Dream over there was sliding his tongue over his fingers like it was his bloody job or something.
"-and apparently it's sap has some serious healing qualities, although Neville says it's not possible to grow it in the UK, because the climate here is too 'magically volatile,' whatever that means-"
"Potter could you-" Draco interrupted, losing the battle with his wandering mind, "Could you stop doing that?"
Harry blinked, "Doing what?"
"That- all that licking. Your fingers, it's..." Draco trailed off, "Disgusting." He settled on, valiantly fighting the blush rising to his cheeks.
"Disgusting? Ugh, really? You're so posh. Everyone licks their fingers, you know? You're really weirder if you don't."
Draco had the Daily Prophet and was holding it tightly in front of his face. Harry raised a suspicious brow, however did not question his unusual behaviour, instead returning to his toast and this time wiping the stray butter on a napkin.
Across the hall, at the Gryffindor table, Granger and Weasley were in deep conversation. Draco wasn't paying them any particular mind, until Granger stopped her whispering and frowned right at him, squinting her eyes and tilting her head curiously.
Draco looked down at himself self-consciously, wondering if perhaps he'd spilt something on his clothes, or if maybe Harry's poor buttering skills had caught him in the crossfire, however Granger appeared not to be looking at him.
She was looking at something before him, but only just. Draco put down the Prophet, scanning the large table for anything unusual. Harry had now noticed his distracted behaviour, and paused in his Herbology spiel.
"What?" He asked. Draco ignored him, making eye contact with Granger who was no longer staring intently but rather just looking in their direction with an odd look on her face. He shrugged at her, mouthing a 'what is it?' across the hall.
She shook her head in response, getting up and walking over to their place at the Slytherin table.
"Hermione?" Harry inquired, "What's up?"
"Your newspaper. Can I see it?" She said to Draco, who frowned.
"It's just the Prophet, Granger. Nothing especially exciting." Draco handed her the newspaper, and she flipped it over to the side Draco hadn't read yet.
"I wouldn't be so sure of that," She responded warily, "You haven't seen this, have you?"
"No.. why? What's happened?" Draco shared a panicked glance with Harry, wondering for a fleeting second if another unpredicted Death Eater event had taken place.
"Oh, God. She must have been planning this for months." Granger said, face growing more concerned by the second.
"What is it? Quit being cryptic, Granger, and show us."
"What's going on?" Weasley asked, having now also migrated from Gryffindor over to Harry and Draco.
"Oh, Ron, look at this!" Granger fretted, thrusting the pages into Weasley's hands. Weasley grimaced.
"Shit. That's bad, mate."
Harry and Draco were growing increasingly more confused by the second, "What is it?!"
Weasley shoved the newspaper back in front of Draco, and to his horror, and enormous photograph of himself and Harry almost nose to nose was emblazoned across the front, titled with the headline 'The Boy Who Loved?'.
Draco spread out the paper fully, taking in the tens of images of he and Harry in rather compromising positions plastered up the margins. None of the moments in the photos had actually been quite so romantically charged, but whoever had taken them had obviously intentionally waited until they'd gotten themselves into situations where they looked less platonic than expected. The several photos lead to a combination which made them look as if they were some sort of overly-touchy couple, rather than just friends with snaps shot at the right time.
"Merlin fucking fuck." Draco said ineloquently.
"Holy.." Harry trailed off.
Hermione snatched the print from the table, beginning to read the first article out loud.
"Our fan-favourite, Harry Potter, seems to have found some rather expensive taste in the form of none other than saucy schoolmate Draco Malfoy. It's common knowledge that Potter has a flare for the dramatic, with his tragic backstory and rebellious intention, however we're certain none of our rabid readers could have predicted this turn of events! Draco Malfoy, sole heir to the line of Malfoy and descendant of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, has been seen seducing our ditsy dignitary. An unlikely pair, as the houses of Potter and Black have had a notorious enmity, blah blah blah..."
"Oh my god.." Harry said, bewildered.
"Shit. Oh, shit! Everyone is gonna see this!" Draco professed.
"Yep." Ron affirmed, pursing his lips, "Least they didn't call you a poofter or anything, mate." He said, patting Harry on the back in what was a poor attempt at consolation.
"Yes, it's actually surprisingly un-derogatory for the usual tripe they spill. Although, I would be careful. People will certainly be angry, they might send you some nasty things by post, or perhaps even some people here will try things." Hermione said gravely, "Hopefully most people will know the two of you well enough to know it's obviously fabricated, but some people are really thick about this stuff. I'd watch out."
Harry still appeared to be processing the whole situation, reading frantically through the lines of text. Draco, however, was grateful for Granger's advice. He suddenly felt bad, remembering how in the 'Good Old Days,' it had been her who'd been in this situation, and he'd been nothing but horrible to her. Yes, things were slightly different this time, due to his and Harry's friendship, but he felt as if even if that weren't a factor, she'd still be sympathetic towards him, if not kind.
All at once, a wave of remorse for the terrible way he'd treated her hit him like a tidal wave. He almost felt a little sick with it, and stood up from the table abruptly.
"Granger?" He asked. Granger blinked, surprised.
"Yes?"
"Can I talk to you for a second?" He glanced between Weasley, who was surveying him carefully, and Harry, who was entirely engrossed in the Prophet article. "Alone, preferably."
Granger's brow furrowed, "Yes, I suppose so. Come on."
She took him by the arm, leading him over to the entrance hall.
"What is it?" She asked, shooting a wary look back at Weasley, who was glowering at them suspiciously.
"I just.. erm..." he trailed off. He wanted to apologise, but now that he was here he couldn't find the words. "I wanted to say that, I, uh-"
She raised an eyebrow, "You..?"
"I'm-" his voice cracked.
"Draco..?" She asked, slightly alarmed by his odd behaviour.
"I'm- sorry. I'm sorry."
"Oh!"
"Yes, actually. Really, really sorry. For how I- how I treated you. In the past. I didn't really understand what I was a part of and," His voice cracked again; he was thinking of the way she'd been treated in Malfoy Manor in seventh year. The way his father had spoken of her, the names he'd called her, and Draco felt his throat growing dry. "I don't think that anymore. I want you to know that. I think you're very, um.. smart. And a good person. Better than me, anyways."
Granger looked entirely nonplussed by his apology, before her face fell into an expression of softness.
"Oh, thank you, Draco. That was really-" she paused, sniffing, and Draco realised belatedly that she was tearing up. "That was really nice of you. I sort of just assumed we'd put the whole 'mudblood' incident and everything behind us. I mean, I slapped you, and I suppose I thought that if Harry could see you'd changed then you had. I never thought you'd actually-" she sniffled again. "Thank you. Apology accepted. For what it's worth, by the way, I think you're smart too. I'm sorry that your father raised you to be that way, and I'm glad Harry has you as a friend."
Draco smiled, feeling his own eyes grow wet at her acceptance. Although this Granger would never know the true extent of his apology, it didn't matter. She accepted him, and despite the severity of his actions in his later years, he hoped that if Harry knew what he'd done and could still love him, then maybe Granger could too.
He was about to tell her how much it meant that he had her forgiveness, when the arrival of several others stopped him.
"I hope we aren't interrupting anything?" Daphne asked, flanked by Blaise, Theo, Millie and Pansy. Draco could hear the stomps of Vince and Greg climbing the stairs from the dungeons, too.
Draco glanced sheepishly at the teary-eyed Hermione, "I was just- er-"
"Actually," Pansy stepped in, "Daphne just didn't want to let it get too far, but we heard. Everything. And for what it's worth, Granger." She turned to her, "I'm sorry too. I know it was sort of mutual, but if Draco is apologising, then so will I. There isn't really a reason for Gryffindor and Slytherin to hate each other, apart from long-lasting house rivalry, and to be honest I don't care about that. Since Draco's been friends with Potter, I've met more of your lot, and you're actually pretty alright. So yes. I am sorry. I hope we can try to.. maybe, erm, get along?"
Granger seemed simultaneously delighted and perplexed by this turn of events, however accepted Pansy's apology graciously, and gave her own in turn. After that, the other Slytherins took turns mumbling their own apologies until every person had said sorry to Granger individually.
"Well!" She said, after everyone had said their part, "Why don't we all sit together, then? There isn't many people in the Hall, right now. There's room. Harry and Ron are already sat at Slytherin."
"Fantastic idea!" Pansy declared cheerily, striding forwards and looping her arm through Granger's. Draco resigned himself to what would now presumably be an alliance to be reckoned with, when Granger paused.
"Hold on, erm, before we go in, you should know. There's a Prophet article about Harry and Draco. If Harry seems a bit, er, preoccupied, that's probably why."
At the words 'Draco and Harry' both Blaise and Pansy perked up immediately.
"Well! Let's take a look then, lead us forth Granger, to this terrible article!" Blaise announced dramatically, slinging an arm around Draco and marching into the Hall. Draco rolled his eyes. Of course.
This Slytherin-Gryffindor reconciliation would be a nightmare.
—-
Harry was flabbergasted.
The entire article was full of snippets of conversations. If Skeeter-the-beetle had been listening at any of the wrong times, their entire cover would have been blown. If there was ever a gross mistake to make, this was it.
To make matters worse, his feelings for Draco were growing entirely uncontrollable.
Simply sitting next to him was enough to set his skin aflame, and seeing the pictures of them looking all Romeo and Juliet were doing bad things to his battered heart. He desperately wanted to just tell Draco how he felt, but he knew if he did, then that would complicate things entirely too much.
Especially if Draco didn't reciprocate.
Instead, Harry decided that he'd suffer in silence. He'd accept that his fate was one of misfortune and simply pine from afar.
In other news, Hedwig had dropped off his letter from Sirius, who seemed none too pleased that things in this new timeline were going so hideously wrong. Harry could only hope that nothing much else would change from here onwards.
As he read through Sirius' concerned words, a very pleased looking Hermione arm in arm with an equally jovial Pansy Parkinson came trotting over to the table. Trailing behind them was the rest of the Slytherin gang, with Draco and Blaise also linked, Draco looking sufficiently miserable to be squashed into Blaise's side the way that he was.
Harry had to cover a snort as Draco plopped into the empty space next to him with a huff.
"What's going on there, then?" He asked.
"Slytherin-Gryffindor reconciliation." Draco intoned, "I apologised to Granger, the others heard and now everyone's all buddy-buddy."
"Oh?" Harry said curiously, looking to Pansy and Hermione for confirmation. Hermione nodded, and Pansy reached across the table to poke Draco in the arm.
"You know, darling, if we're friends now, you should probably switch to a first name basis."
"Yes," Hermione agreed, "You can call me Hermione."
Draco blinked.
"Okay. Hermione?" He tried, smiling awkwardly.
Hermione's face split into a grin, "There we go! Not so hard, was it?"
"Do the house elves at Hogwarts grow the food, too?" Blaise interrupted randomly, spearing a strawberry on his fork.
"Oh, that reminds me- if we're friends now, you should all try joining S.P.E.W!" Hermione remarked.
"What's spew?" Asked Pansy.
"Not 'spew'! S.P.E.W, it stands for the..."
And from then until lunch, Hermione and the Slytherins engaged in a fascinating conversation about the ethics of House Elves.
Harry grinned to himself. At least some things were working out.